


Hank Can't Catch a Break

by Riahlynn101



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Connor - Freeform, Connor Deserves Happiness, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Hank Anderson - Freeform, Hank has a nightmare, Hank needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, It's only sad for a moment, Poor Hank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 15:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18252959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riahlynn101/pseuds/Riahlynn101
Summary: October 11th is always a hard day for Hank. Connor does his best to cheer him up, and life throws a curve ball at them





	Hank Can't Catch a Break

Hank really didn’t want to get out of bed. And for once, it wasn’t because of laziness or a hangover. All the same, Connor woke him up. Standing outside the door and calling his name, like an overgrown version of Sumo.

“Connor,” Hank grumbled, “I’m awake.” The android ceased his hollering. 

“The current time is 7:45 am,” the lieutenant sighed. “If you start getting ready now, then we will only be five minutes late.” The younger man’s voice seemed to drone on.

“I’m up!” He tossed the comforter aside.

Hank sat on the edge of the bed. Putting his head in his hands, he took a deep breath. With an extreme effort, he got dressed. 

The first thing he noticed as he was walking into the kitchen was the time. It wasn’t anywhere near 7:45. The time, instead, read 12:00 pm. For a moment Hank wondered how long he took getting dressed. The second thing was the feast on the table. Pancakes, french toast, and eggs sat in the center. A place was set.

“Good afternoon, Hank.” The sound of sizzling bacon filled the air. Everything looked wonderfully delicious. Hank’s stomach turned. He opened the fridge.

“Connor!” He slammed the fridge shut. The rk800 stopped in his tracks. Turning around, he looked at Hank.

“Where’s the beer?” He stumbled closer to the android. A look of rueful sadness flashed in Connor’s eyes. He turned back to the bacon.

“I threw it out.” The sentence to anyone else would have no considerable bearing. Any other day, Hank could be categorized with those people. He had cut down on his drinking ten-fold. Some days, he could go without the smallest amount of alcohol. Today, was not one of those days. He needed booze. 

“You what!” Hank slammed his hand down on the table. 

“I know what today is.” Connor didn’t turn to face Hank. 

“Good for you,” he swallowed. “Put this food away,” he paused outside the kitchen, “I’ll be in the car.  
The ride to the precinct was tense. Hank focused intently on the road ahead. Any attempt at a conversation was shot down by his blaring music, which he would turn up to block Connor out. 

“Connor,” the android regraded him. “Don’t ever bring that day up, again.” Without another word, he got out of the car. 

The rest of the day carried on as normal, for the most part. Many of his coworkers were tiptoeing around him. As if he were glass. Gavin continued to be an asshole, even more so than usual. Although, his efforts were all directed towards Connor. Who, for the life of him, couldn’t understand how he could possibly be related to a toaster. Any other day this would provoke laughter on Hank’s end, but not today. 

Somewhere throughout the day, it had begun to thunderstorm. The precinct shook with each clap of thunder. Rain pelted angrily against the roof and windows. Hank silently hoped it would stop soon. 

The rain only got worse. And by the time, it was time to leave it fell in thick sheets. Hank white-knuckled the steering wheel. His hands shook slightly. For once, Connor didn’t mention it.

Usually, the drive back to his house would only take fifteen minutes. On days where visibility was severely limited, it could take thirty or more minutes. Hank, liked to think of himself as a good driver. He had years of experience to thank for that.

“I miss Sumo,” Connor was doing his coin tricks again. Hank slammed on his brakes, nearly missing the stoplight. 

“Goddammit this is taking forever,” he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. 

“Lieutenant, the light has only been red for 2.5 seconds.” The coin jingled as it was past between fingers. Hank reached over and roughly pulled the coin away. He pocketed it. The light turned green.

Hank didn’t have time to react to the headlights barreling towards Connor’s side. The sound of screeching tires and a blaring horn filled the air. The car rolled over three times into a nearby ditch. There was a faint smell of coolant in the air. 

Hank’s head hit the steering wheel with a speed that left him incapacitated for a few moments. A few raindrops landed on his face. He groggily looked over to the passenger seat. Only to find it empty. The only sign of where the android had gone was a smashed windshield. 

“Connor!” Hank struggled with his seatbelt. 

“Hank,” the voice was quiet and was almost not heard over the roaring of the storm. Hank managed to get his door open. He tried to stand but found his legs were too weak to support him. Crawling in the direction he heard the voice, he found Connor. 

To say the android looked bad, would be generous. His arms and legs were bent at awkward angles. Some of his synthetic skin gave way to show the pearly white of underneath. What caused the most concern for Hank was the amount of blue blood he was losing. The substance almost completely coated Connor’s dress shirt. 

“I have called emergency services they will be arriving-” Connor’s voice glitched out. He tried again, “They will-” Hank shushed him. 

“They’ll be here soon, I get it. Save your energy.” He ran a quivering hand through Connor’s hair. 

Distantly he could hear sirens. For the first time in exactly four years, Hank Anderson cried. 

The next few hours passed by in a blur. Hank could barely recall the ambulance arriving. They had taken Connor away on a gurney once they’d arrived at the hospital. Besides a concussion, a fat lip, and sprained ankle he was fine. They said he could go home. He asked about Connor. He was given answers, like ‘he’s fine’ or ‘don’t worry. He’s in good hands.’ The medical staff eventually gave up asking the man to go home and rest. Hank waited patiently in the waiting room. Without meaning too, he fell asleep.

Hank was driving. He could not make out anything. It seemed like everything’s covered with a blanket of darkness.

“Daddy?” His heart skipped a beat. Looking into the backseat, he saw the horribly mangled body of his deceased son. “Why couldn’t you save me? I’m dead because of you!” Hank could hear the words, but Cole’s mouth wasn’t moving. He had to turn away. The smell of decay was so strong, that Hank almost gagged. As he moved his attention back up front, he was greeted by Connor.

“Hello, Lieutenant.” Connor’s voice seemed harsher and glitches than normal. Unlike Cole’s, his voice came out when his mouth moved. While he seemed to be in better shape, he looked angrier. “You’re a horrible father,” Hank swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You’ve killed two sons,” he paused, “On the same day, the exact same way.” 

“Maybe he’s just an awful driver,” Cole piped up from the back. 

“Or maybe he’s just an awful father.” Connor’s eyes were staring intently at Hank.

Hank awoke with a start. A thin sheen of sweat had plastered his hair to his forehead. His heart was thumping erratically against his ribcage.

“Mr. Anderson?” A woman in a white lab coat asked. Her blonde hair was pulled impossibly tight into a bun. She smiled grimly at Hank.

“Yes,” he sluggishly got to his feet. Once on his feet, he remembered why he was there. “Connor, is he alright?”

“Yes.” Somehow, the answer didn’t put Hank’s mind to rest. “You can see him, now.” She motioned to the double doors. “Although, I would recommend-” Hank interrupted. 

“I want to see ‘im,” without another word she ushered him through the double doors. 

“Now,” she started, “our engineers did their best. Connor’s regenerating software is top of the line. That being said,” pausing she looked at Hank. “He’s still healing, and is still visibly damaged.” He nodded as if he understood. 

She led him into a small hospital room. It smelled heavily of various cleaning supplies. Everything looked pristine and perfectly organized. The only light, at the moment, was coming from a plexiglass window. Steady beeping from a machine in the corner drew Hank’s attention.

Connor lay on the bed. His form lifeless, and Hank had to fight down bile from coming up. It reminded him too much of another boy. Connor’s hair, always clean and neat, was plastered to his forehead. Various different wires hooked into him. Some to monitor thirium levels. Others, for charging purposes. 

Hank stumbled forward. Grabbing a chair he sat beside Connor’s bedside. The woman stood stiffly and quietly in the doorway. “I’ll give you a moment alone.” He didn’t acknowledge her.

“I’m sorry, Con.” He could feel his eyes getting watery. “Dammit I’m gettin’ soft,” he chuckled gently. Reaching out to the android, he stroked his hair. It never ceased to amaze Hank, how real it feels. So lifelike, and soft. 

“Hank,” the voice sounds confused. “Why are you grooming my hair with your fingers?” For a second, Hank is at a loss for words. Only for a second, before he lets out a great big laugh. 

“It’s something humans do for comfort.” He leaned back in the chair. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Better, although my left auditory system is still offline.” Connor paused looking over at Hank, “my hearing is officially on par with yours.” He gave a shit-eating grin.

“Okay smartass.” He ruffled his hair. “Get some rest, so your rejuvenating ability can work.”

“Regenerating,” Connor corrected. 

“Whatever. Just rest up. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“Promise?” He squeezed Hank’s hand.

“Promise,” and he intended to keep it.


End file.
